The Rising Insecurities of Fatherhood
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: Left alone in the nursery with his newborn daughter, Levi struggles with his doubts and insecurities as a new father, but as he holds her close, he realizes that despite his past, some love is unconditional. AU, Honey & Spice-verse. ONESHOT


**Author's Note: **This was a secret santa gift for tumblr user shainilia! I figured I'd add it to the Honey & Spice world because I'm addited to that verse =P Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan characters.

**Where Life Begins: The Rising Insecurities of Fatherhood**

_A Honey & Spice Sequel _

"Wait here."

Levi's command was short and simple as he pulled his keys from the pocket of his knee-length peacoat, fiddling for the one that would unlock the door to the home he shared with his wife over the bakery they owned. He wouldn't have her climbing the stairs, not yet.

His hands shook slightly as he guided the key into the lock, and pushed the door open. They'd renovated two years prior, combining the two apartments that had once faced each other, returning the space to a single family dwelling. It was easy to call it home; he had felt at ease in this space since he first rented that tiny apartment across the way, ever since he had first laid eyes on Petra Ral.

But she was Petra _Ackerman_ now, he mused as he propped open their front door with a bottle of wine from the counter, and he never regretted it, not once, no matter what his former employer had warned him of.

Satisfied with the opening, he thundered back down the stairs, crouching down on the landing, and tucking a blanket more firmly around the tiny baby, his daughter, sound asleep in her carrier. She wasn't even four days old yet and he felt uneasy while he slipped his arm under the handle of the car seat, preparing to carry her up the stairs and into her new home.

Petra smiled at her husband, watching as he took the stairs at half speed.

"I can carry her if you'd like," she offered, knowing what his answer would be.

"You're _not_ coming up here in that condition."

"It's not a _condition_, Levi. I just had a baby," she reminded him playfully, raising her voice as he reached the top of the stairs, placing their child an exact foot from the threshold. Not close enough to fall, but not far away enough where he wouldn't be able to see her.

"The doctors said you're to rest," he chastised, lifting his wife up into his arms and making his third trip to the second floor, "so you will _rest_."

When he put her down she shrugged at him and lifted the carrier off the floor a few inches, much to her husband's dismay, scooting the baby into the living room.

"What do you say, Isabel?" she cooed to the sleeping child, pulling back the blanket and undoing the buckles that kept her snugly in her seat, "would you like to come out and see your new home?"

She didn't respond, of course, so comfortable where she sat.

"Oh, Levi—" Petra twisted around to point into the kitchen, waving her hand at the table, "Can you put the signs up, please?"

He gave her a curt nod, picking up the hand painted signs she had bought on some sort of internet site. They were identical, save the colours of the words and they read, _Shhh. Quiet please! Mommy and baby are resting._

Levi snorted as he scooped up the plastic hooks she had set aside for them. If she thought these stupid things were going to keep out her stream of well wishers, she was sadly mistaken. He was surprised no one had been waiting for them when they arrived home from the hospital.

He heard her grunt, lifting the baby from the carrier before she went off into some cooing motherly gibberish, giggling when Isabel curled her teenie body in the air, scrunching her sleeping face and protesting against being pulled from the warmth of her nest.

"Awwww, it's okay," he heard Petra purr while he hung up her ridiculous signs, one on their front door, one on the bedroom, and one on the nursery. Did she _really_ need _three_? Wouldn't it just be easier for him to turn down anyone who knocked on their door?

"Sit _down_, Petra," he called from the hall where he was putting the last satin bowed ribbon on the hook.

Rocking the baby in her arms, she sauntered down the hall, not wanting to speak too loudly. "I've been sitting and laying for three days, Levi," she protested quietly, nudging open the door to the nursery and stepping inside, "a _week_ and three days if you count the seven days before we were even admitted into the hospital."

"Will you ever do as your told?" he wondered, lids turned down over his cobalt eyes, leaning against the door frame.

"Not so long as you're the one giving orders," she replied, lowering herself into a plush rocking chair, her lips turning up into a cheeky grin.

He crossed his arms at this, scowling at her but the expression didn't last long. Isabel began to squirm, waking again, and out from her mouth, an awkward cackle of a cry came forth. She moved closer to Petra's chest, nuzzling against her blouse in search of nourishment. Petra responded with a hushed _okay, okay baby_ and while she readied herself and her daughter, Levi reached over and pulled a blanket from a white wicker basket on the floor, a gift from Erd and his wife.

Draping the small crocheted afghan over the infant seemed to satisfy her a bit, and when she found her food source, she relaxed, eyes drifting closed once again. He smiled. It was slight, and Petra didn't notice, focused on the baby in her arms, but he didn't want to be noticed. He just wanted to watch. He wanted to admire them both, to count the two blessings before him and hold them dearly for the rest of his days.

It was a wonder to him that something so small, so fragile, yet so beautiful, could have been made by him. He had spent the better part of his existence taking life away, yet despite his wicked actions, he had been granted the chance to _create_ life, to protect it, and to atone for what he'd done.

It was overwhelming.

"Why Isabel?"

It was a question that had nagged Petra since the very first moment he had suggested, no, _decided_ _on_ a name for their daughter. He had been so certain, his tone so absolute, she hadn't tried for another.

He didn't look at her, but stroked the baby's cheek with the back of one of his fingers, watching with awe as his newborn child nursed contentedly in her mother's arms.

"It was my mother's name," he said quietly, making no change in his expression when Petra's eyes widened. Even after three years of marriage, he had never once spoken about any family he may or may not have had before Erwin had taken him under his wing.

Petra moved to speak, but Levi wasn't ready for questions just yet.

"At least I think she was my mother," he put in, running his fingertip over Isabel's jawline, marveling at how large and cumbersome he felt in comparison, "I hope she was my mother." He sighed, heart heavy at the memories. "I loved her."

There was a soft silence as his wife allowed him to share his past in peace, without judgement or intrusion. Isabel began to fidget and her tiny, awkward little arm jerked upwards, unused to using such muscles. Her palm spread and gently he offered her a finger. She caught it and, content with the hold she had on her father, settled back against Petra, continuing her meal, eyes closed, mouth turned up in satisfaction.

Petra had always assumed his parents were no longer living, but to hear him speak of his mother in the past tense, to see his eyes reflect a sadness she hadn't seen since before they were wed. . .it gutted her. But still she wanted to know more.

"What happened to her?"

It was a question she wasn't sure if he was ready to answer. He might not have ever been ready to answer. As he sat in silence, concentrated on his daughter, he contemplated the same thing. _Was_ he ready? No. Did he ever want to speak of it? No.

But he should.

Petra deserved to know, she deserved to harbor his secrets with him, to understand him the way he understood her. So, with a soft exhale, he relaxed, lowering himself down to the gliding footstool before the rocker, not pulling his finger from the baby's grasp. It was remarkably comforting.

"She was killed," he nearly whispered, "when I was six."

His wife didn't respond and he didn't expect her to.

"She ran a halfway house in the slums of Sina," he continued, gliding the footstool back and forth slowly, giving himself a soft rhythm for his tale.

"I didn't know there were slums in Sina," she responded quietly, never having been to the glamorous city herself.

Levi shrugged, "that's because they don't put it on the brochures."

She smiled at that, but he didn't.

"I didn't know it at first, but the house wasn't really for people trying to get their shit together. It was a cache for a drug cartel. My mother let them work in and from the house, and they supplied her with income and protection from the bigger dangers of the city."

Isabel released her grip on his finger, stretched, and reached for him again.

"They protected her and they protected me," he said, tickling her palm for a few seconds before he granted her the hold she wanted, "until things went bad.

"There was bad blood between the men who worked at our house and some other bunch and when it boiled over, it came to our doorstep."

He swallowed, his throat tight and awkward. This wasn't the right time, but his mouth wouldn't stop. The words kept pouring forth.

"She tried to hide me. I was just a kid, so I was valuable. She knew it, they know it, everyone fucking knew it. She offered to give up all the information she had, to give them the cartel as long as they'd keep me out of it."

Petra clutched Isabel close to her breast, unable, even after just four days, to imagine the thought of her child taken from her side.

"They got their information," he said, "then they killed her and took me anyway."

"What did they want with you?" she asked, unable to wrap her head around the horrors he had experienced at such a young age.

"I was _six_, Petra," he pressed, "they could have made me into anything they wanted. Told me anything and I would have fuckin' believed it as long as it ended with a slice of cake or a few coins."

Children were remarkably impressionable; he certainly had been, and now that he was grown, he understood why they were such a hot commodity in the underground. He didn't approve of the practice, but he understood it.

"Anyway," he sighed, bringing his other hand to rest atop the grey and pink blanket Isabel was wrapped in, "I was only in their care for a couple of days. Then the Big Man came in and took me back to my own people."

"The Big Man? Like. . .the boss?"

"Kenny Ackerman, yeah," he said, his voice a lot lighter now, "He ran the cartel. Taught me how to read and do numbers and that kind of shit. My mother was gone but he made sure I was fed and had a clean bed to sleep in, stuff like that."

Petra smiled at that. She didn't imagine life in a cartel to be very pleasant, but Levi had nothing to compare it to. He had been taken care of in his own way.

"Kenny Ackerman," she repeated, "was he your father?"

Levi took his bottom lip between his teeth in thought, smoothing out the blanket. It was a question he had asked himself for years, but never voiced.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, "maybe. Probably. He was always gentle with my mother even though he was dick to everyone else."

"Where is he now?"

He shrugged again, ready to be through with this conversation. "Dunno. I had a little bitch fit when I was fifteen and left. Joined up with Erwin two years later and you know the rest."

Petra buttoned her blouse, shaking her head and chuckling. "Yes, I bet the life of the syndicate's most deadly contracted killer was far more glamorous than running odd jobs for a drug cartel."

"Why are you laughing."

She looked up at him, golden eyes shimmering in the afternoon light and leaned forward, kissing his cheek.

"Because look at you now. You're a baker, a husband, a father, and," she paused, nodding to the door as their curly cat Auruo strolled in to observe the newest member of his domain, "you own a cat."

Levi frowned. "That's your cat."

"He's _our_ cat," she corrected, bringing herself to a stand, waving him off as he tried to help her up.

"Will you hold her now?" she asked, tucking the blanket around the baby, "now that we're home."

His jaw tightened as he looked up at his wife and child. He hadn't held Isabel in the hospital, terrified he'd drop her. For all the nurses' insisting, he hadn't budged. He also hadn't let many others touch his daughter.

_Wash you hands!_ he had demanded of visitors.

_No. Again._

No one had been clean enough, no hands fit to touch his baby girl. Especially not his own.

"Petra. . ."

"Levi—"

"It's not a good idea," he bit off.

If his wife was willing to take no for an answer, he supposed he wouldn't have married her.

"Sit here you stubborn man," she scolded, using one arm to hold the baby close to her and the other to slap her husband's shoulder blade, shoving him towards the rocker. He protested only slightly, and when he was seated on the minky cushion, he felt his heart race.

"Honestly," sighed Petra, laying Isabel down into her father's arms, adjusting his elbow here, and his forearm there, "big bad Levi Ackerman afraid to hold a _baby_."

"She's _my_ baby," he argued, his breath catching in his throat at the weightlessness of his daughter. While he had meant to defend his fear and his insecurities, he found himself silent, speechless at the closeness he was sharing with his tiny offspring.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit," Petra whispered, scooping up the cat.

Levi's eyes snapped to hers, terror reflecting in his deep blue gaze at the thought of being left alone with such a fragile being but once again, she leaned over and graced him with a small peck of affection.

"If she cries, wake me. I'll tend to her."

She didn't give him any room for argument, closing the door gently behind her. He knew what she was up to. She wanted him to _bond_ with the baby, to spend time with her and get over his doubts. Well he didn't have much of a choice now.

Arms locked in a stiff, baby holding position, Levi looked down at the little girl, sleeping without a care. He wanted to touch her again, to feel her cheek, so soft and perfect, against his calloused fingertips. But could he? With a deep inhale, he pulled one of his hands out, inch by inch, lest she tumble from his hold.

This was stupid, he thought. People held babies _every day_ and he doubted any of them got dropped. He shouldn't be any exception to this. Just in case, he pulled the gliding footstool towards him, propping his feet up with bended knees, and creating a barrier between his daughter and the floor with his thighs.

Much better.

"So," he began, enjoying the soft feel of her skin once again, "I'm your father."

He stopped. How cold that sounded.

"Your dad," he amended. Then, lowering his voice just in case Petra was eavesdropping on him, he whispered to her, "your papa."

She didn't respond, unfazed by his introduction, so he relaxed a bit, allowing himself to sink a little deeper into the chair, rocking them in it.

"I'll be taking care of you, so don't cause too much trouble. And don't make messes that you can't clean up. If you pull Auruo's tail he won't scratch you, but his meow is ugly so just don't do it."

Isabel let out a tiny yawn, one that Levi enjoyed watching, then settled back against him, her face turned to nestle in the crook of his elbow.

"You'll probably be pissing all over yourself for a while, being a baby and all so. . .I'll be cleaning you up a lot." He thought about this for a moment, then frowned. "And that's gross, so I guess I'll also help teach you to. . .not. . do that."

"Papa never went to school," he continued, "but you will. And you'll have little bratty friends that your mother and I will have to entertain. You could play with Erd's boy if you want. Farlan. He's not a total loser yet."

He was three.

That was all the important stuff, wasn't it? She was just a baby after all; he didn't need to tell her how to run the pastry shop downstairs just yet. It's not as if she would have remembered the instructions anyway.

For a while he simply rocked her. He didn't speak, but he did pray. To what or to whom, he wasn't sure. Anyone who was listening, he supposed. He prayed for guidance, to know how to care for and protect this precious gift. He prayed that she would like him, that she would trust him, and that she would look to him for strength. But most of all, he prayed that he would never, even inadvertently, bring harm to her.

Levi didn't know how many minutes passed, so lost in his desperation to find a hold on what it might be to be a good father, but when the child in his arms began to squirm, he stopped the chair's movement, looking on curiously. Was she hungry again? Would she cry?

Isabel's eyes opened as did her her mouth, emitting a strange little half-squeal, caught in a yawn. Though she didn't cry outright, she whimpered, limbs jerking around underneath the blanket.

"Don't cry," he pleaded softly, "please just let your mother sleep a little bit."

He looked to his left where a cubed unit sat, decorated with plush toys in some of the blocks, and books in others. Books. Yes. He could read to her. That always seemed to calm children down.

"Here," he said, adjusting his arms once he had a hold on the first book he could reach. He propped her up on his chest, allowing her to see the illustrations, and opened the bright yellow cover of the book he had found.

"One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish."

He turned the page.

"Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish."

What was the deal with these fish?

He cleared his throat, continuing on, "This one has a little star. This one has a little—" he stopped. "a car? Really? The fish has a car?"

Leaning off to the side, he tilted his head to gauge his daughter's reaction. "Do you like this book?" She didn't seem all that interested in it, so he flipped through the pages, muttering to himself. "Let's see if this gets any better."

It didn't.

"But we know a man called Mr. Gump. Mr. Gump has a seven hump wump. So. If you like to go _bump bump! _Just jump on the hump. . .of. . .the wump of. . .Gump."

Levi stared at the illustration before him, a horrifying caricature of what could have only been a deranged camel.

"What the fuck is this shit."

Isabel made a tiny "hm" in reply.

"Yeah that's what I thought," he agreed, standing, holding the now closed book between two fingers and he tried to re-tuck the blanket around her tiny body. He slid the terrifying piece of literature back into its place, making a mental note not to allow Petra to shop alone, and with a newfound confidence, walked, newbown in arms, towards the door.

"Let's find you something more interesting," he mused, slipping from the nursery, making his way into the living room where his latest read was waiting for him on a tray at the coffee table.

It was colder in here, so with a slow crouch, he bent over, pulling a blanket of his own from a basket by the couch and congratulating himself on his one-armed baby hold. It wasn't so difficult after all.

Lowering himself to the cushions, he stretched out, propping himself up with a pillow, and making a small nook for Isabel out of his right arm. This seemed to please her, as she stared at his hands, opening to the first page of the novel. It was an action series with far more coherence than that monstrosity in the nursery even if he was beginning to doubt the author's ability to keep the plot on track.

"Here we go," he said, turning to the first page. "ready?"

Isabel blinked and he cleared his throat.

"And on that day, humanity received a grim reminder. We lived in fear of the titans, and were disgraced to live inside these cages we called walls. . ."

**xxxx**

It was near dinnertime when Petra woke from her nap, Auruo kneading at her chest, reminding her of his hunger. When she saw the time on the clock, her heart jumped, her stomach flip-flopped, and she panicked. Was Levi alright? It had been almost three hours. Although she wanted to believe both her husband and child were fine, as a new mother, she couldn't help but think they might not be.

Pushing the cat aside, she leapt from the bed, her tender woman parts protesting at the harsh action.

It was time for Isabel to eat. Had she not cried for her mother?

The house was silent, the nursery empty.

_Calm down_, she told herself, continuing down the hallway, en route to the open space of the main living area. So often she had been told silence was golden, but now, as a parent, silence was horrifying.

When she stepped into the living room, she froze. Her heart calmed itself for a mere second before it began to work double time but this time not out of fear, but adoration, and sentiment.

With a book in one hand, and Isabel in his arms, Levi lay asleep on the couch. Their daughter snoozed atop his chest, her tiny hand gripping the collar of his tee shirt for security. Grinning, Petra took a few steps back, crouching to retrieve her phone from the diaper bag, and took advantage of the moment, capturing it with her camera.

"See?" she whispered, planting a kiss on each of their foreheads, "you're a natural."

**xxxx**

**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed it~ Merry Christmas, babes!


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